She slapped him. He was lying on the bed reading 'the book'. She always slapped him when he read that chapter from that book. She liked the book otherwise but this one chapter and this was always the result. Why did he have to write that death scene there. This time she bit him also, just for that extra effect.

He got a little shocked, he was used to the slap, infact after the first few times he had given up protesting and secretly started enjoying it, but the bite was new.

"What happened, baby" he asked her, pulling her closer in his arms

It had been an year now, an year since she'd stepped of that stage with the trophy, an year since she had stepped out of the book. What is this book we often ask. There will always be an author. Its just that whether you believe that everything in your story is written by him or whether you are gonna write most of your story.

He had written the story, their story, well almost, except for a few twist and turns (which is why he got slapped so often). It was his first book, a nice book, and it had won him acclaim and money, allowing him to quit his job and become a full time writer.

She looked at him, the senti bugger. Why, why had she fallen for him. She thought she was a drama queen, this guy was the king of melodrama. She had just cooked upma one day and the bugger had written a poem about it. Who writes a poem about upma for heavens sake. And the days he got senti, he drove her mad, a bigger pain than all the office pain she had.

But she knew why she loved him. He knew how to make a girl feel special, every day.

Their journey had not been easy...but it had been their journey and there was something comforting about having him around. It wasn't as if he made everything magically right. Infact more often than not he messed it up. Like when she had asked him to get a cake. She had ordered the cake, told the baker exactly how it needed to be made. All she had asked him to do was pick the damn thing up from the baker and get it home. He did, except that a little bit of speed, a dicey cut between two vehicles, screeching of brakes (no no more flying over edges :P ) and the guitar shaped cake came looking like a broken mic.

Not that her friend who she had ordered it for minded it, but you know the lady. She went into such a tantrum. She wasn't the screaming kinds. She was the kind who would go silent when they get angry. She turned to go to her room to cry in peace.Phaat...a lump of cake landed on her back. He was holding another piece in his hands, grinning. She was so gonna murder him. After that it was an open to all, probably one of the best fun parties they ever had. Maybe a little kiddish, not the way she had imagined it.

But that night when they made love to each other, lets just say, there was a lot of chocolate on them for them to nibble. It was a double treat for both.

i have a confession...i still havent begun reading. you know, Sane...i would need half a day to catch up with this backlog...which is (i admit) entirely my fault...but this i promise you, my love...i shalt read...

and right now i am so darned exhausted...it is incredibly interesting...all thresholds have been crossed...HAHAHA...see im laughing...i think it is hysteria...

As I said earlier and I still maintain it (for now, until convinced otherwise), the 'HE' in your story is utopian. I've seen few real life 'HE's' and believe me, it's always what they want, why the eff do you think I love the 'HE' in your story, somehow 'HE' is so elusive and so unreal.